Lebanon: between normalised violence and a politics of kindness

It is hard to ignore
the level of xenophobia and violence, verbal and physical, that
exists today in Lebanon.

‘All struggles are a priority and solidarity is the solution’ from the IWD march in Beirut on the 11th of March, 2017. Picture by Pat Sy.Since the end of
2016 under Michel Aoun’s presidency, and the new government of Saad
Hariri, it has been increasingly clear that a new form of governance
is taking shape in the country. It is one that is marked by growing
repression, new limitations on freedom of expression and political
action, and an alarming level of militarisation.

Lebanese
sectarianism, xenophobia, and racism is certainly no new phenomenon,
they have a history that can hardly fit into one article. However,
unprecedented levels of incitement against refugees and “others”
are today visible. One can find many similarities between the
discourses of many of the Lebanese ruling parties, most notably the
Free Patriotic Movement (the President’s political party) and those
of the xenophobic extreme right wing parties in Europe and the US.

Refugees after all
have become a global scapegoat and an easy demon to rally against by
such right wing movements. They all rely on demonising an “other”
(the Muslim, the Arab, the refugee, the Syrian, the Palestinian,
etc.) in order to justify their legitimacy as the saviors of a
certain “true” political subject, while distracting people from
the injustices, inequalities and corruption of the system they are
safeguarding.

As the wave of
xenophobic patriotic zeal in Lebanon was growing into a campaign to
erect the national army as an institution beyond criticism, the
government was passing a new package of taxes that would further
impoverish a Lebanese society already living under dire economic
conditions.

Lebanon is an idea that exists
only in the minds of some, and all but non-existent in reality. The reality is that this piece of land is mostly marked by
unbearable electricity cuts, water shortage, decrepit infrastructure,
massive unemployment, unprecedented and toxic levels of pollution in
the sea, air, and land, and a corruption that has reached mythical
levels.

All these crisis
predate the influx of refugees, but blaming them all on Syrians has
proven to be both extremely easy and convenient: “they” are the
ones who came to destroy a fantastical functioning country that has
never really existed and brought terrorism, violence, crime, and
poverty, etc.

On every metric, and
in reality, Lebanon is far from being a functioning state for its
inhabitants. The last parliamentary elections took place roughly 8
years ago, and the same parliament has renewed its own mandate, and
gave itself a raise while doing so.

It is easy to blame
politicians, political parties, foreign intervention, the media, the
weather, the cedar trees, the Phoenicians, let alone the Syrians. But
there is something deeper and much more worrisome taking place within
Lebanese society(ies) that cannot simply be blamed on others.

Daily aggression,
the normalization of violence and shameless racism have become the
staple of Lebanese life. When a group of Lebanese men proudly film
their assault on a young Syrian man, laughing as they humiliate and
beat him, and proudly share it, as was the case on the day the new
taxes were approved, we must ask ourselves what makes such an act
possible.

This was not the
first video of its kind. Many, too many, such videos have been
produced and shared in the last years.

It is clear that we
have reached a point where there is a vital need for a radical social
and political change. But when even expressing solidarity with those
suffering from injustice and violence is seen as treason by large
segments of Lebanese society, and when people are more motivated to
declare their blind support for the army than to do anything about
the rapid deterioration of their lives and livelihoods (and to object
to anyone who tries to do so), how and where can we work towards
social and political change?

It is hard if not
impossible to imagine changing the political system and the power
structure in Lebanon. The groups and individuals who are seeking such
change have very little impact and power to compete with the
established political parties who set the rules of the game. Under
these realities, perhaps it is elsewhere that alternative politics
needs to happen: in building communities of care and solidarity, in
countering a seeping hostility that is found both within society at
large but also too often among activist communities themselves. It
might sound naive or apolitical, but there is a pressing need for
kindness in our circles and in our surroundings, and it is both an
individual and a collective act and most of all, a political one.

About the author

Walid el Houri is a researcher, journalist, and filmmaker living between Berlin and Beirut. He is lead editor of the North Africa West Asia (NAWA)section at openDemocracy, and an affiliated fellow at the Institute for Cultural Inquiry in Berlin. He completed his PhD in Media Studies at the University of Amsterdam. His research deals with protest movements and the question of failure in politics.

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